Stable
by Jaclyn840
Summary: It had always been there for her, like an anchor in the stormy seas; a solid rock in the ever-shifting world of the Games. Effie x Mahogany Table. Implied Hayffie. Oneshot/Drabbles. Crackfic.


**A/N: Written for the Caesar's Palace Nova Challenge Prompt: Unique****.**

* * *

_._

_55/ _

It's right there in the middle when the senior escort leads Effie into the dining car for the first time.

"I've redid the décor a few years ago. It keeps the ambience subdued; reminiscent of the Districts, but still luxurious," the older woman trills.

Her words are lost in Effie's ears. She runs her fingers over the Table and holds her breath, feeling the wood caressing her fingertips.

"Beautiful table isn't it? Mahogany, been around since the start of the Games."

"_Mahogany,_" Effie whispers as she exhales, "s_ince the start of the Games_."

_You're full of secrets aren't you? _

_._

_57/ _

"Let's go over what needs to be done when we reach District 12."

Effie leans forward and rattles off the schedule to the senior escort, still fresh in her memory from the studying she's done last night.

The woman smiles; she knows Effie's the right person to succeed her.

"Good job sweetheart! Would you like to … conduct the Reaping later?"

Effie gasps, unable to believe her ears, "But it's my first time!"

"There's always a first time for everything," she sings, before leaving to look for Haymitch.

"_Did you hear that?" _she whispers excitedly to the Table, _"I'm conducting the Reaping!"_

_._

_59/ _

There's a mess of chicken bones strewn across the Table where the Tributes had torn into a roast. A bottle of wine has toppled over in the food-carnage, and now threatens to stain the Table lying beneath a thin, cashmere tablecloth.

"Oh for heaven's sake, show some decency!" Effie exclaims, seeing the mess, "Haymitch, help me-"

But he's passed out on a couch, streaks of vomit visible on his shirt.

"Seriously?" She gasps in exasperation, balling up her fists, "It's been less than two hours!"

Effie gazes upon the Table, resolute and unwavering despite the chaos – and her shoulders relax.

_._

_61/_

Haymitch wanders into darkness of the dining car. The sight of Effie slouched over on the carpet grasping the Table's leg doesn't surprise him. He knows it's been a tough year.

"C'mon sweetheart; they were twelve. You knew they didn't stand a chance."

"I can't, I just-" she snivels, wiping the tears from her eyes, "how do you even cope with this?"

He sits next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

"You just have to find something to cling onto besides hope," he says, taking a swig of liquor.

Effie hears his words and tightens her grasp.

_._

_63/ _

Effie lets out a gasp when her fingers close around a small nub beneath the Table.

After many years, she knows every inch of the Table better than the back of her hand. Hence, the presence of a foreign object takes her by surprise.

"What's-"

Haymitch sees her expression, and presses a finger to his lips.

"Is that-"

He cups a trembling hand over her mouth, and scribbles on a napkin.

THEY CAN HEAR YOU

_How dare they eavesdrop on us! _she thinks, _don't they know it's bad manners? _

Effie changes her mind about the Capitol being a benevolent state.

_._

_65/ _

When Finnick Odair wins, Gold becomes the new trend in the Capitol: golden clothing, golden hair, golden jewellery, and golden furniture.

Effie's escort friends are no exception. Decked in gold outfits, they go furniture shopping for their trains – all expenses paid.

"Oh Effie, look at this one!" another escort trills, caressing a Gold-plated Teak Table, "you just_ have_ to get rid of that ghastly wooden monstrosity in your dining car!"

Effie muses about trends and fads and how the Table had always been an unwavering constant in the seas of change.

"How about a nice Champagne Tablecloth instead?" she chirps.

_._

_67/ _

The train runs so quietly, Effie forgets she's on her way to District 12. She dozes off filling in paperwork, and wakes up with her head on the Table. The first thing she notices is the _smell_; she looks around before sniffing the wood.

"_I never imagined you could smell so good," _she whispers, inhaling its fragrant woodiness.

Perhaps it was the wine she had, or she's just tired; but when her lips press against the naked wood she lets out a soft shriek and blushes at the sight of her lipstick on the Mahogany.

_You liked that__,__ didn't you_?

_._

_70/_

Effie signs off on her paperwork and closes the Tribute file with a sigh. Another year, another two Tributes. She shuts her eyes and tries not to think about the two white boxes in the next car.

It's been 15 years; she and the Table have grown to be a part of each other. She places her pocket watch, notebook, phone and makeup on the same spots every year. The attendants who've worked on the train long enough know never to use varnish, and only to clean it with cotton flannels and rubbing alcohol.

Even Haymitch respects her Mahogany Table.

_._

_74/ _

When Katniss drives a knife into the Table, she might as well have stabbed Effie in the heart. The Table's seen its fair share of knocks and stains from decades of Tributes. But a deliberate stab? _No one's ever done that. _

"That is Mahogany!" she gasps.

Katniss glares back at her, emotionless and determined; she doesn't care what Effie thinks. She hasn't eaten like it was the last day of her life. She hasn't stared out of the window with tears in her eyes like all the others.

For the first time, Effie's looking at someone who _could actually win. _

_._

_75/ _

"Let me out!" Effie screams at the steel door, "Locking up a woman, have you no manners?"

But no one's around to hear her. There's nothing in her prison cell either. No heating, no bed, no hope; just a flimsy plastic table in the centre mocking her for ever believing in the steadfastness of her Mahogany Table.

She was torn from it like Katniss was torn from Peeta. Now there's nothing left but a painful reminder of the memories they shared.

Effie casts a disdainful look at the table, before kicking it across the cell and slumping to her knees.

..

-/

Haymitch hadn't expected to see her again after the rebellion. But he had rehearsed the moment over and over in his head, going against his own advice not to cling onto hope. Nonetheless, her first words surprise him.

"It's gone isn't it?"

_It. _Not _he, she, _or_ they. It. _

"Effie, for heaven's sake! They bombed the railways, it'd be a miracle if the train's even-"

Unable to contain her grief, she runs into Haymitch's arms and sobs uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into her blonde hair.

Wrapping her arms around his body, Effie learns how to cling onto something else.


End file.
